Suffolk Downs, June 27th

Paul, a blacksmith, or a horse shoer which is sometimes the preferred term, checks the shoes as each horse comes into the paddock. Sometimes I see  him between races and listen to his stories about his time in the Marines or about his two dogs that he walks for at least an hour a day or about his boat which he fishes from and sometimes stays on. Yesterday he'd been out on it and the fog had rolled in so thickly that he could hardly see.

     Today he showed me pictures from his son's wedding in Chicago a week or so ago. His son's a Marine, a career officer. The new wife either works with special needs or dyslexic kids. His other son is a Marine, also.  

     In the morning, when I'd been over at the barns, it was sunny, humid. By the time the races started, it had gotten cooler, the air had dried out. I went to see the 8th, a Stakes race. Harry's horse was #11. His stalls are a ways down from Elena's and I see him whenever I'm there, making feed or filling water buckets. He's a soft-spoken guy, friendly and informative. I almost never bet, but I put $6 across the board. I would have won a pack of money because the odds were 70:1. No such luck for Harry's horse.